


The Worst Laid Plans Can't Possibly Go Wrong

by appending_fic



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Awkwardness, Bisexual Male Character, Bullying, Cooking, Cooking to Show You Care, Demisexuality, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Dates, First Kiss, Forgiveness, Gay Male Character, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Scheming, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 15:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16389935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appending_fic/pseuds/appending_fic
Summary: Steve has a plan to mess with Jim - drive him crazy with thoughts of some strange dude sending his mom presents, flowers, poems, the whole thing. The plan rapidly spins out of control and Steve finds himself in an increasingly confusion situation.Eli just wants the whole thing to resolve itself so people stop asking him for advice.





	The Worst Laid Plans Can't Possibly Go Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> People were talking about TH rarepair week, and someone suggested this dumb idea, and a week later, here we are. I'm posting it today because the theme today is unrequited love, and I am COMBATING THE SADNESS.

"You and Lake are friends, right?"

Eli flinched at the sound of Steve Palchuk's voice; middle of the cafeteria or not, that voice had never boded well for him. He tensed further when Steve dropped onto the bench across from Eli. It didn't matter that Steve didn't look mad, because shoving Eli into lockers was more of a hobby for Steve than a response to any emotion Eli made Steve feel.

He was, however, watching Eli, an intense, watchful expression, which suggested Steve wasn't going anywhere until he got an answer.

"I...guess?" Eli offered. Jim _was_ a person who didn't beat him up on any sort of regular basis, and sometimes sat near him at lunch, which, while a low bar, might almost qualify him to be one of Eli's friends.

"What's the deal with his mom?"

"His...mom?"

"Yeah, Jim's dad's like, gone or whatever, right?"

Eli took a moment to consider his answer. On one hand, Steve was clearly up to something. On the other hand, Jim's mom's deal wasn't exactly a secret.

(On the other, he could retort that _Steve's_ dad was gone, too, and actually earn the beating he was going to get later anyway.)

"He left back when we were in like elementary school; you _have_ to have heard about it."

"So she's single?"

Eli worked his way through three responses before he settled on, " _What_?"

"Jim's mom-"

"Okay, I _heard_ you," Eli clarified, waving at Steve. "I just… _why_?"

Steve paused, looking back and forth, and waved Eli in close. Sufficiently intrigued ( _morbidly_ intrigued, but still interested) to risk the chance this was all a setup to make Eli look stupid, Eli leaned closer.

"First," Steve said, "if you tell _anyone_ what I'm about to tell you, I'll pound your face in."

Unsurprising, so Eli gave a quick nod.

"I'm gonna mess with Lake," Steve said.

Eli waited a moment for clarification, but when none came, it was clear Steve thought he'd explained everything he needed to.

" _How_?" Eli demanded.

Steve gave Eli a wide grin, like they were friends, instead of a bully and unwilling accomplice to his plots. "He's like, super protective of his mom - I heard he makes her _lunch_ every day." Eli knew that, and also that Jim made lunch for Toby Domzalski, as well. "So I'm gonna make him think she's got a mysterious secret admirer, someone he knows nothing about. It'll drive him _crazy_." Steve pushed himself up from the table, paused, and pointed aggressively at Eli. "And remember, Pepperdork - _not a word_."

...Eli wasn't certain he would tell anyone even if he were allowed. For one, the plot sounded so ridiculous, he doubted anyone would believe him.

For another, whatever the fallout of Steve's plan was, it was bound to be the most entertaining thing that happened all semester.

\---

A knock at the door roused Barbara Lake from her journal (it was for the best, as the revolutionary ideas of the author were something Barbara had been hearing from nurses for years). Jim was still at school; he'd somehow been roped into the drama club's production of 'Twelfth Night', which meant Barbara would be at work by the time he got home. So if anyone was going to answer the door, it would be Barbara.

When she opened the front door, however, there was no one there. There _was_ a flower (an iris, if she was any judge, and the exact shade of Aron Rodriguez's prized irises) taped to the door by a note that read, 'Lake'. The note did not elaborate further, so, bemused, Babrara took the flower inside and set it in water in a little glass on the kitchen counter. She was a little old for a secret admirer, and old enough that someone who left notes with no signature was a little worrying, but Arcadia Oaks was quiet and safe, and there _was_ something endearing about the flower, even if Aron complained about vandals and thieves at the next homeowners' association meeting.

A few days later, Barbara came home to another gift, a football-themed first aid kit, which was strange, but she stuck it in her purse because it was comprehensive enough to replace the bulkier pack she would otherwise carry with her.

It was luck, ultimately, that she caught the gift-giver in the act a week later. A rare lull at work sent her home in the middle of a double-shift. As she rounded the corner and headed toward her house, she caught sight of a boy - blond, broad, tall - sprinting away from her front door. There was a bouquet - three flowers, really - made of paper tucked into the knocker. And, well, having seen what she had, the strange little gifts made sense. She left the flowers next to the stove for Jim to see and then decided on a little sleuthing.

Not snooping, of course. But, someone _had_ secretly delivered flowers to her son's door, and she at least wanted to know who he was.

Fifteen minutes later, last year's yearbook open, Barbara was _not_ impressed. The most likely culprit, Steve Palchuk, was a common factor in stories Jim told about other kids getting bullied. It certainly didn't incline her to like Steve any more.

Of course, she didn’t have any illusions about how a teenager might respond when someone expressed romantic interest in him, bully or not.

She decided to press a little the next morning when, just home from her shift, she had a rare opportunity to share breakfast with Jim.

“That boy Steve in your classes-“

“Steve Palchuk?” Jim ground out, stabbing his omelette. “What about him?”

Not friends, then. And if Jim was aware of Steve’s attraction, didn’t reciprocate. “Has he been acting differently lately?”

“Like how?”

Barbara took a moment to consider. Seeking Jim out, talking to him more than usual, giving him gifts…

At last she shrugged. “Anything you noticed.”

Jim gave her a long look. “Is this a weird way of telling me something without violating doctor-patient confidentiality?”

“Jim, I’d never do that!”

“Alright!” He raised his hands defensively, dropping a bite of omelette onto the table. After wiping it up, he shrugged. “Not really. I don’t hang around with him, so it’s not like I’d notice.”

It made sense, Barbara mused later. Steve was a football player; he could rightfully expect ridicule if it came out he liked a boy.

Still, when an awkwardly written poem ended up on their door, Barbara decided to intervene. Now knowing the mystery gifter was a high school student, she was able to predict when he might show up.

She took to sitting near the door, so when the knock came right after school one bright afternoon, she pulled the door open with Steve only a few steps away.

“Steve, is it?”

Steve froze, turned, and gave Barbara a curt smile he probably thought looked suave.

“Hey, Dr. Lake. Nice day, right?”

“Do you want to come in, or would you rather continuing to skulk around my door at all hours of the day?”

Steve opened his mouth to respond before he jerked his head up, frowning. “You knew it was me?”

“You’re not terribly subtle, I’m afraid. So why don’t you come in so we can talk?”

Steve’s eyes widened, and Barbara wondered what he imagined she was planning - cutting him up and dissolving him in lye?

But then he nodded. “Yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

When he followed her inside, he spent a few moments trying not to obviously investigate his surroundings.

“Go ahead, look around. I’ll get some tea.”

Steve scowled, but his expression shifted quickly. “I’d prefer coffee if you have it.” Was it her, or was he pitching his voice deeper?

“Well, we probably have a few cups left from this morning.”

“Not gonna say it’ll stunt my growth or anything?” And he had _definitely_ changed his voice earlier. Barbara bit her lip to avoid grinning as she stepped around into the kitchen. He was probably trying to seem mature.

“Well, for one, at sixteen, you don't have a lot of growing left to do, coffee or not. For another, coffee in reasonable quantities can be beneficial to one's health...as long as you aren't loading it with flavored syrup. So if you want coffee, I can get you...two-thirds of a cup of coffee." She finished pouring the remainder of the morning's coffee into the nearest cup, which had, 'LIQUID SLEEP' written on it, a relic of her tenure at med school, and handed it to Steve. He took the cup, gingerly drew it close and sniffed at it.

He took a sip while Barbara set up her tea, watching him out of the corner of his eyes. He kept looking around, trying, she suspected, to see the evidence of Jim in his living space.

"So, Steve. If you're going to keep popping around here, you _will_ need to stop stealing other people's gardens as presents."

"I…" Steve jerked his head up, nearly spilling his half-cup of coffee. "What?"

"Mr. Rodriguez was quite upset that someone uprooted his irises." Barbara poured her tea and gave Steve a gentle smile. "But I see you figured that out. Where did you learn to make those paper flowers?"

Steve glanced away, cheeks reddening. "It's this stupid thing my mom taught me. I know it's cheap - and girly-"

"I think it's nicer than real flowers. Takes a little more effort, and you don't have to kill any flowers to make it."

"...Oh."

Barbara set her cup down and leaned in a little, which could command attention even from middle-aged male hospital administrators. "Look, Steve. Jim is very important to me. And you don't have a...great reputation. Frankly, I don't know if I'm comfortable letting you spend time around him."

Steve stared at Barbara blankly, worrying at his lip for several moments. But then he spread out his hands against the counter and nodded. "Yeah, I get it. You need to know there's more to all this than a star quarterback."

It was not exactly what Barbara meant, but she was willing to accept going at this in small steps. "Basically, yes."

"Message received, Dr. Lake. Now, I gotta jet, important sh - stuff to do. So I will catch you later?"

"How about you call first, next time?"

Steve grinned, gave her a thumbs up, and took his leave.

And Barbara might not be the _best_ judge of men's character (James Lake Sr. was evidence of that), but there was something there, she thought - not redeemable, as if it were either hers or Jim's job to make Steve a better person - but something that if Steve put in an effort, could make him someone she could approve of.

\---

Something _weird_ was going on. For the past week, every time Jim saw Steve Palchuk, the other boy waved at him and said, "Hey, Lake." No snide comments, no sneers, just a wave.

If Jim hadn't run into Steve shoving Eli into a locker yesterday, he would suspect he'd been replaced by an alien or something.

He _did_ , however, interrogate Eli, who was the person among Jim's acquaintances who spent the most time in Steve's company, when helping him out of his locker. "Has Steve been acting weird lately?"

"What did he do?" Eli asked.

"So there _is_ something going on?"

"What?" Eli yelped, drawing back against the bank of lockers. "No. Absolutely nothing. I have no idea what Steve might be up to, if he were up to something, which he isn't. Or if he were, he definitely wouldn't confide in me."

And Eli may have made sense (why _would_ Steve confide in a boy he seemed to have nothing but contempt for?), but he was _also_ acting suspicious. Unfortunately, interrogating him would probably involve something a little too close to bullying for Jim's comfort, so he let Eli go and went to rehearsal, where he and Claire spent an hour trying to mimic each other's mannerisms so they could convincingly _act_ like twins, even if they didn't look it. Afterward, waiting for their rides to show up, Jim decided to press her for answers. It had been awkward talking to her at the beginning of the show, but pretending to be siblings onstage had forced a sort of camaraderie that made _conversation_ easier, even if his heart still got a little unsteady around her.

"Have you noticed Steve Palchuk acting weird?"

"You mean, hulking jock weird, or out of character weird?"

"Out of character. Well. I mean, he's still strutting around and acting like an ass, and I had to rescue Eli Pepperjack from a locker before rehearsal, but...I don't know. He hasn't been, like, trying to wind me up. And he keeps saying 'hi' to me. Like, an ordinary, polite 'hi'!"

Claire leaned back, kicking her legs; Jim tried to mimic for a moment, because Ms. Janeth was harping on this whole 'synchronicity' thing for him and Claire, and anything he could do to keep her from making them do more exercises was a plus. "I mean, that's honestly weird enough it _could_ be a sinister plot."

"And I think Eli knows something - he got really squirrelly when I mentioned it."

"Hm."

"What?" Claire was tapping her chin, and looked honestly thoughtful, and given she fought to maintain among the highest grade point averages in school, seeing her look thoughtful about this meant there _was_ something going on.

"I'm trying to figure out why Eli would be defending Steve, and...you don't think they're secretly dating, do you?"

"Date - he was stuffing Eli into a locker less than three hours ago!"

"Yeah, but Steve's got this 'image' to maintain. I can see him thinking they've got to keep up appearances. And who knows - maybe Eli gets off on that."

" _Claire_!"

She shrugged, but was smirking; she'd said that just to wind Jim up. "I'm just saying, it takes all kinds."

Jim snorted, and shoved Claire, lightly, before he thought about it. She laughed, though, and shoved him back.

"Do you really think he and Eli are going out?"

"Nah," Claire replied. "I don't see Eli putting up with that _at all_. He's more the 'fall in love with a guy who's just nice to him' type than 'fall in love with his bully' type."

"So, do you have _any_ useful suggestions?"

"I don't know," Claire replied. "Maybe he got visited by the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come and had a change of heart."

Jim glowered at Claire. "You know, I used to think you were perfect, that you would never mock a guy for worrying about whether his arch-rival was plotting his downfall."

"Yeah?" Claire asked.

"...It turns out you're way cooler than that."

She grinned and punched Jim's shoulder.

It did _not_ , however, answer the question of what was going on with Steve.

\---

"Okay, Pepperjack, I _cannot_ believe I am saying this, but I need your help."

Eli looked up from whatever nerd book he was reading (seriously, who read books by a guy named Gayman?), giving Steve a wide smile.

"Oh hey, Steve, it's nice to see you. How have you been? Good, I've been fine?"

"What?" Steve scowled at Eli before shaking his head; he didn't get nerd humor. "I need _help_ , Pepperjack."

"Yeah, and _I'm_ pointing out we're not _friends_ , Palchuk. I do your calculus homework to avoid getting beat up...more, I mean. And I am apparently privy to your secrets. But I am not here to give you advice on whatever problems you've got."

"Then how about I threaten to pound you unless you help me?"

Eli snorted. "You're going to pound me for one reason or another anyway, and I'm _already_ keeping quiet about your weird plan to mess with Jim, which I _guess_ is working, because you are weirding him out somehow."

"I'm not trying to weird him out!" Steve snapped in a furious whisper, leaning in close to Eli before remembering they were in public. "Look, his mom said we could, like, hang out if he thought I was cool-"

"Wait, what? Like…"

" _Obviously_ , she doesn't want to date me," Steve snapped. "But I think she wants to mentor me or some shit, and that'd probably drive Lake just as crazy, right?"

Eli nodded. "Sure! So you're…"

"I'm trying to make him like me so Dr. Lake thinks I'm cool."

"And you're doing that by…"

"Saying hi and shit," Steve replied. He waved vaguely at the air. "Being friendly."

"Friend…" Eli took a deep breath. "You realized you've spent like, the last ten years being a jerk to him, right?"

"So? I'm trying to be _nice_!"

Eli raised a hand, paused, dropped the hand, and then shook his head. "By saying 'hi'? Look, Steve, Jim thinks you're a _jerk_. Like, Grade-A, premium jerk."

"What? Why?"

"Why?" Eli let out a long hiss. "You - you stick kids - _me_ \- in lockers for looking at you the wrong way. Or when you're bored!"

"And?"

Eli reached out and poked Steve, freezing only a moment afterward. Steve himself felt a moment of shock that Pepperjack would _dare_ -

Eli flinched.

Steve looked down at his hand, which was clenched in a fist, done reflexively. He relaxed it and forced his posture looser before looking over at Eli.

“It’s fine, Pepperjack. I’m not gonna hit you.”

“ _Now_ ,” Eli sniped back.

And there was still a flare of anger, but something in that flinch stuck with Steve. Maybe because this was their first civil conversation ever, and Steve had been the one to ruin it without meaning to.

So Steve pushed the anger away, finding in its place…

Nothing.

Fuck, was that all Steve was? A blot of anger inside a pretty good quarterback?

Well, fuck it. “Well, how about I just not hit you at all?”

Eli raised one curious eyebrow at Steve. “Are you getting tired of our routine?”

“No, I - you said Jim likes people who don’t, like, shove people into lockers or hit them, right?”

“No, I was…” Eli rubbed at his forehead. “That’s like, basic fucking decency, Steve. That doesn’t get you points.”

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“You know what?” Eli replied. “Why don’t we start with ‘not being a terrible fucking person’ and see if you can pull that off?”

“Yes; stage two of ‘mess with Lake’s head’ is officially in progress.” Steve held out his fist for Eli to bump, before thinking better of it and opening his hand to shake.

He was feeling good about this.

—-

“All that, and Jim won’t even talk to me!” Steve groaned. He dropped his head against the table in the coffee shop, rattling both their cups and threatening to spill his coffee.

Barbara shrugged. “I’m afraid Eli is right. While it’s...good you’ve decided to be less mean to your classmates, it isn’t exactly commendable behavior. And you two have a...history, which doesn’t make that any easier.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Eli is being _useless_.”

“It’s not his job to solve your relationship problems, Steve.”

“Well, whose is it?”

Barbara let that question hang for a moment until Steve looked up from the table, scowling. “You’re telling me it’s my job.”

“Bingo.” 

Steve groaned again.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help you. If you ask.”

Steve’s expression, narrow, a little hopeful, made Barbara lament Steve hadn’t had someone he felt comfortable talking about this with before now.

“I thought you didn’t approve of me?”

And...Barbara _had_ said that, something she regretted a little. “I meant I didn’t know you well enough to know how I felt about you around my son. And I think...we’ve gotten to know each other a little better, haven’t we?”

Steve gave her a hesitant smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good. Now the first thing you have to understand is that _you_ have to make the first steps. Jim doesn’t expect you to be nice to him, so you might have to hold out for a while before he catches on. And even then, there are no guarantees.”

“What? Then why even bother?”

“You don’t have to, Steve. But reaching out, trying to end this animosity between the two of you, is good for both of you, even if nothing comes of it. Think of it as training wheels for being nice to people.”

Steve snorted into his coffee. “You’re _weird_ , Dr. Lake. No wonder Jim is, too.”

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

—-

“Hey, Lake.” Jim paused, but then pushed his locker closed. Steve Palchuk was leaning on the next locker, ankles crossed, basically looking at ease.

“Steve. What do you want?” He didn’t exactly mean to sound hostile, but he didn’t expect this encounter to go well, and he was anxious to get to rehearsal.

“Hey, jeez!” Steve protested, hands up. “I’m not trying to start trouble. I just thought I’d say hi before your...practice thing.”

“Rehearsal. Don’t you have football practice?”

“Yeah, that too. So I gotta jet. Break a leg, Lake!”

The saying hi Jim might have written off on whatever had inspired Steve to engage in regular human pleasantries. Wishing Jim luck in the way you were supposed to in the theatre was…

Weird.

“Be honest. Do you think Steve Palchuk has been replaced by an alien clone?” Claire had graciously insisted she would keep Jim company while he waited for Toby to get out of the library, and she was currently balanced on the back of the bench Jim was sitting on.

At Jim’s question, she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Honestly? I don’t know what they’d want with him. I’m actually starting to seriously consider my theory he and Eli Pepperjack are secretly dating; I think I caught him being _nice_ to Eli yesterday.”

“Maybe. But that wouldn’t explain why he keeps, like, showing up and talking to me. He told me to break a leg before rehearsal earlier.”

“Well, _that_ sounds in character - wait. Do you mean actually, ‘break a leg, Jim’?”

“I wouldn’t even expect him to know theater lingo.”

“Huh.” Claire kicked Jim’s hip as she thought. “Excluding possibilities I will not consider because they are simply impossible, your alien clone theory is a contender. But my top three are - secret Steli love, his mom promised him a car if he stays out of trouble, and one of those things where you get struck by lightning and your personality gets all flipped around.”

“That doesn’t happen.”

“Neither does alien abduction, and you have asked me to weigh in on the matter. My ruling simply happens to be lightning personality reversal is more likely.” She punched Jim's shoulder and hopped down from the bench, pointing toward the school, from which Toby was approaching. "And as fascinating as all this is, I have homework. But do keep me updated - if you're right about the alien clone thing I'll owe you dinner!"

Toby raised an eyebrow as he arrived next to Jim. "Did you just get asked out?"

"Only if Steve Palchuk turns out to have been replaced by an alien clone."

Toby shrugged. "That's something, at least. You ready to head home?"

"Sure. Do you and Nana want to come over for dinner?"

"Man, microwave macaroni or the nightly special at Chez Lake? How will I ever decide?" Toby laughed as he followed Jim out of the parking lot. "But seriously, how are things going with Miss Nuñez? Have you practiced any onstage smooching yet?"

"...Toby, we play siblings."

"Yeah, but it's Shakespeare. Either no one remembers who's related to who or everyone dies at the end. I figure either way, you're probably kissing her."

"A, no, and B, no, I haven't. I don't know - it's really hard to turn off the 'pretending to be her sister' switch when we get offstage."

"So...would that mean you wouldn't get weird about it if _I_ asked her out?"

"What?" Jim missed a turn and nearly upended his bike before he caught his balance. "Since when have you been interested in Claire?"

"I don't know - she's cute, and I figure you don't have to have been pining after someone for years to ask them out."

Jim thought, really thought, for a moment. _Would_ it be weird? He didn't want to give Toby the go-ahead, just to sit on his feelings for years until they exploded as a drunken rant at Toby's and Claire's wedding.

"Go ahead, man. I mean, I can't _stop_ you-"

"But you're sure you won't feel weird?"

"Seriously, go on. If _you're_ her type, she was clearly out of my league the whole time."

"So what's this thing about Steve anyway?" Toby asked as they parked their bikes in front of Jim's house.

"He's been...weird, right? Lately? Out of character."

"Think I saw him hold a door for Ms. Janeth today. And Eli's less jumpy - I asked him and he said Steve's been leaving his alone. Well. Sort of."

"When do you talk to Eli?"

"Oh my goodness! I forgot I exist in a timeless void, absent of human contact, when you're not around!"

"Ha, funny, Tobes. I just meant I didn't know you talked."

"Gotta do _something_ to fill my lonely, Jimless hours." Toby grabbed Jim's arm and tugged him into the house. "Hey, Dr. Lake! Wait - is she home right now?"

"Shouldn't be - it's half of why I invited you over."

"The other half better be my sparkling personality," Toby retorted as he made for the phone. "What's dinner, anyway?"

Jim pulled open the refrigerator, running a practiced eye over the contents. "I can do chicken parmesean or...steak frites."

"If Food Network doesn't pick you up at some point, you are going to make a lovely house husband someday," Toby said as he dialed the phone. "Hey, Nana!"

\---

Steve paused outside the cafeteria, trying to calm himself. His morning had started with an argument with Coach Lawrence, who was convinced that just because he was engaged to Steve's mom he had any right to poke around Steve's business. He sort of wanted to talk about it with Dr. Lake, but she'd made it clear he wasn't welcome to hang around if he couldn't get along with Jim.

So he took a deep breath and stepped into the cafeteria, taking only a moment to pick them out, Jim and Toby huddled next to each other on one of the benches.

He tried to move with confidence, but was certain everyone could see how nervous he was. Still, wussing out would be _worse_ , so he stopped by Jim's table, went for a casual slouch.

"Hey, anyone sitting here?"

He tried not get mad when Jim and Toby shared an uncertain look. Dr. Lake was right - it wasn't _their_ fault if they were wary of Steve.

But Toby shrugged and Jim gestured to an empty seat across from him. Steve sat down, aware as he did so that he had just wandered into a conversation between two old friends.

"So, uh-"

"Oh my god, is that what you're eating?" Toby demanded.

"What?" Steve looked down at the sandwich he'd been able to slap together before school. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, peanut butter at least, for protein.

Toby yanked the sandwich out of Steve's grip and shoved his own lunch in front of Steve. It was a bowl of noodles with some weird shit in it. "There. Consider this my act of charity for the day."

"Give me back my sandwich!" Steve snapped, only to find Toby raising it out of his reach as Steve reached for it. Steve gave Jim a furious glare, only for the other boy to shrug.

"I'm doing you a favor, Palchuk. Eat."

Steve would have protested, except.

He _was_ trying to get along with Jim, which meant he was going to need to put up with his friends.

And Toby's lunch _did_ smell pretty amazing. Steve had made fun of Jim's cooking hobby in the past, but it was hard to think badly of it while the product of his efforts was sitting in front of Steve.

"Alright, but if this kills me, I'm haunting _both_ your asses. And I don't mean that pussy 'knocking shit off of tables' shit. I'm talking possession, fires, the whole caboodle." He spun some of those noodles around the fork and took a cautious bite. And yeah, it was pretty good - there was spicy chicken and some crunchy nuts or something and a flavor Steve just couldn't figure out.

"Why the hell aren't you going on those - like teen junior cooking competitions on TV?" Steve demanded.

"Ha!" Toby yelled, pointing at Jim. "Seconded - and this is from your, like, _worst enemy_ , so you _know_ it's legit!"

Jim glowered at Toby, but his cheeks were red, and the frown faded in a moment, so Steve was pretty certain Jim wasn't _upset_.

"Sooo, what brings you to our corner of the cafeteria?" Toby asked. "I mean, obviously the grub is reason enough, but you were clearly unaware of that fact."

"Thought I'd mix it up," Steve replied. "See how the little people live."

 _Fuck_ , he'd gone for casual, suave, and dived straight into arrogant right away. "I mean-"

Toby burst out laughing. "That's the first time anyone's ever called me 'little'. But yeah, we haven't struck it big yet. But Jimbo might turn out to be a triple threat: chef, actor...:" He paused, giving Jim a sidelong look. "We figured this out last night, didn't we?"

Jim shook his head, smiling. "Fuck, dude, I don't know." He gave Steve a quick glance, and his smile faded a little. And even though Steve _got_ it, it hurt, seeing that smile disappear because of Steve. "But yeah, you're slumming it today? How's it compare to the jock kingdom?"

"Food's better," Steve replied, because it was true, and compliments were a good way to not have to think of other things to talk about (what did nerds talk about? Comic books? Weird board games?).

"Ha! Watch out, Jim, if we win tonight's game, Steve's gonna hit you up for homemade lunch before every big game."

"Oh _god_ , shut up," Jim groaned. "He's not normally like this, but he binge-watched like _all_ of Food Network Star last week and thinks I'm gonna make it big."

Steve shrugged. "Yeah, well you gotta do _something_ with your life. And hey, if you become a chef to the stars you can come work for me someday."

Fuck - was that snide? Or mocking?

But Jim held a hand across the table. "Sure. I'll even hook you up with a special rate."

"For old friends?"

"Pfft - _friends_ get food for free. Old enemies get to pay double."

 _Jim_ looked like he was holding his breath, and Steve was reminded of Eli's flinch; people he'd known for years knew he could turn hostile on a dime. 

But Steve just grinned and shook Jim's hand. "Worth it."

\---

"Mom?"

Jim's mom looked up from the bills - they'd been in a good place for a couple years, but it still made him feel a little anxious working through them.

"Yes?"

"Can people change?"

Jim's mom set her pen aside and crossed to join Jim in the kitchen (keeping her distance from the actual work, thank goodness), watching him as he worked. "What brings this on?"

"I…" He shrugged, trying to find a way to explain what had been going on for the last couple of weeks. "You know Steve Palchuk?"

"I'm familiar with him, yes."

"He's always been, like, this _huge jerk_ , but suddenly, this year, he's - I don't know. He's been, you know, polite to me, and hasn't been really bullying anyone, and...he's sort of gotten into the habit of sitting with me and Toby at lunch. And he _seems_ okay, but part of me just keeps thinking it's some sort of act, or something. People don't just go from being jerks to good guys, right?"

His mother shrugged. "It's hard to say. I'd like to believe people can change, if they realize there's something about them they _want_ to improve on, and make a real commitment to it. I think a lot of the problem comes when people think they want to change but don't want to go through the work they need to. Or say they will, without ever really wanting to at all."

"Hm." Jim considered that while he finished prepping the vegetables for dinner. Steve hadn't been _telling_ people he was trying to change; he'd just shifted his behavior, cutting back on the snide comments, the teasing, the bullying, the fighting.

His mom's hand was suddenly on Jim's back, rubbing gently. "If you don't feel comfortable around Steve, you don't have to spend time with him. Trusting your gut - your instincts - is a good way to deal with people."

Jim sighed and pulled out two pans he began to heat. Because he was pretty sure feeling uncomfortable around Steve wasn't the problem. He wanted Steve to be different, to have grown up so they could all have a peaceful rest of their high school career.

...He sort of wanted to be Steve's friend. Steve's occasional hesitance, moments when Jim could see Steve struggling, made a little more sense given his mom's assessment. Steve had been a jerk, and part of that had probably become reflex. If he wanted to, was _trying_ to, be better, it wouldn't be easy.

"So if I think he's trying - _really_ trying?"

"If that's what your gut is telling you, listen to it. I love you no matter what, Jim, and part of that is trusting you to make your own choices."

It was a comforting and probably sound piece of advice, but Jim still felt a little confused as he stared blankly at his homework later. 

Why Steve, deciding to do a complete 180 in personality, had decided to befriend Jim. He'd apparently been seen hanging around with Eli, too, which made Jim feel a little...unsettled. Not suspicious, exactly, but worried that Steve was only here because he was trying to make amends, not because of anything about Jim he wanted in his life.

Toby probably wasn't going to be much help, because he would just start listing reasons why anyone would be lucky to have Jim as a friend, second only to having Toby as a friend.

And part of him didn't care why Steve had originally decided to start talking to him, now that he'd had an opportunity to see the parts of Steve that weren't a mindless football bully. Steve was sort of awkward, wasn't quite as confident of himself off the football field. He liked English class more than he let on, and had picked up 'break a leg' _there_. There was more to learn about Steve, and Jim wasn't going to get it if he stopped talking to Steve now.

Steve had invited Jim to the football game that weekend (he'd actually insisted Jim cheer for him, but _implicit_ in that was him asking Jim to come), and Jim was almost certain he'd settled on actually wanting to go.

All he'd wanted was confirmation from his mom that trusting Steve wasn't a terrible mistake.

\---

Eli shivered on the bleachers of the football field. He hated it when it started getting below 70 at night; he basically spent four months in sweatshirts. He didn't know why he was out here. Sure, Steve was (technically) his friend, but that didn't mean Eli had to do everything Steve asked. It was, in fact, one of the substantial benefits of upgrading from being Steve's victim to friend.

But Eli had never actually been to a football game before, the risk of further beatings usually enough to keep him away from the field. So he was curious, and the promise of seeing those who had once joined Steve in tormenting him getting concussions held a morbid thrill.

"Excuse me." Eli glanced up to see Jim pushing past him. He waved.

"Hey, you need somewhere to sit? Because I am here alone and this is the prime location to catch all the collisions."

Jim looked a little green at that, but he did sit next to Eli. "Anyway, I've been reading up on this and am like 60% sure I can avoid cheering at the wrong moments. Point - it's considered bad form to cheer when people break limbs, even if they _are_ on the other team."

Jim grimaced. "Please tell me no one's going to break anything; I'm already worried about all the concussions everyone's gonna get."

"If you aren't here to see semi-indiscriminate violence, why _are_ you here?"

Jim shrugged. "I don't know. I think Steve really wanted me here."

"Huh." If Steve were still committed to messing with Jim, this was _way_ off script. Of course, Eli was pretty sure Steve had strayed the moment the plan involved 'getting Jim to like him'.

Jim poked Eli in the arm, startling him out of his thoughts. Jim was glowering a little. "What is that?" he demanded.

"What's what?"

"That look!" Jim retorted. "You were acting cagey the last time I asked you about Steve, and you've got that same look on your face now."

Eli huffed, wondering if he could keep pretending to know nothing.

"Come on, Eli. I keep going back and forth about whether Steve's up to something, and then I think he maybe really wants to be friends, and...this is driving me _crazy_."

"Okay." Eli looked away from Jim, back to the field. "You gotta remember that this started, like, a _month_ ago. Steve told me he had some dumb idea he was going to freak you out by like, hitting on your mom? And I don't know - she caught him or something, and he wanted to be friends with her? And then...I don't know, I stopped following what was going on at that point."

Eli heard a soft hiss when he mentioned Steve's plan, but he didn't want to risk looking and seeing Jim mad at him.

"My… _mom_?"

"Yeah, I don't-"

"Oh my _god_ , my mom's been asking questions about Steve, and it didn't - what the hell did he think he was going to do?"

Jim didn't sound mad, just confused, so Eli risked a look. When he met Jim's eyes, he shrugged. "Look, at that point, I was afraid he was going to punch me as insurance; I wasn't worrying about his reasoning. And after that...I'm just waiting to see how this whole thing works out. _I had to listen to him whine about how you didn't like him, Jim_. I do _not_ have time to figure out what his end game is at this point."

"He...was worried I didn't like him?"

The look on Jim's face was...wistful, Eli would say. Or whatever it was, he was not displeased with the discovery that Eli had been forced to reassure Steve on at least one occasion that if Jim didn't like him, it wasn't because of anything he was doing _now_ , but instead what he'd done until the very recent past.

The _relevant_ part of that revelation was that Jim wasn't mad at Eli for knowing about this and not telling him, which allowed Eli to relax for the rest of the game.

Even if Jim kept making pained noises every time someone collided on the field.

\---

Steve had gotten used to making a small detour when he got to school, to swing by Jim's locker. It's not like he had to gush about their nights or whatever, but he normally saw his other friends in passing before school started, so it felt weird not to see Jim, too.

This was the first time, though, Steve found Jim at _his_ locker. Jim waved; Toby, next to him, grinned when he saw Steve.

"Hey, Steve-aroni. Fuck, no, that's dumb. _Pal_ chuk?"

"Drop it, Tobes," Jim said, elbowing Toby. "You've spent way too much time trying to figure this out, and it's not going to work." He turned back to Steve, holding out a...lunchbox?

"What…"

"I made a little more of the stuff I was making for lunch than I meant to, so I packed one for you."

"No shit?" Steve grabbed the box, flipping it open to examine the contents. Jim had a tendency to, over Toby's objections that Jim shouldn't starve himself for the sake of asshole football players, share samples of his food at lunch (one of the most compelling reasons to join the two of them). To have a whole lunch prepared for him meant he was eating _well_. There was something oddly familiar about the noodles in the box, but the five-minute warning bell rang, forcing Steve to leave lunch to figure out later.

Coach had insisted the team eat together at least once a week, so Steve was with the other players today, which he didn't really think about until he sat down and Ramon shook his head at Steve.

"Abandoning the Colts, Palchuk? I never thought I'd see the day."

"What?"

Ramon waved at Steve's lunchbox. "Fucking _Niners_ , too, who I thought you said you'd _die_ rather than go over to."

"It's a fucking lunchbox," Steve retorted. "Only thing laying around."

But Ramon's comment made Steve think. To really look at the lunchbox, at his lunch. He doubted Jim had a 49'ers lunchbox laying around the house, which meant…

He hadn't accidentally made an extra portion. He'd gone out of his way to make Steve lunch, which given the other recipients of the products of Jim's effort were his oldest friend and his mother…

And aside from that, he'd clearly picked the lunchbox out for Steve, who hadn't talked enough with Jim to indicate a 49'ers lunchbox made him sort of want to die inside, only enough that Jim thought Steve would like something with football on it.

Steve's final realization didn't come until near the end of lunch, when he remembered why the food Jim had given him seemed so familiar.

It was the same thing Jim had made the first time Steve had asked to eat with him and Toby.

It _could_ have been a coincidence, but the lunchbox made it clear Jim had put effort into this.

Steve's chest felt a little tight, suddenly; he kept eating, though, because the food was delicious and it would look suspicious otherwise. But when he was finished he bolted to a quiet corner of the library to think, because his mind kept skipping around and he needed somewhere quiet to focus.

Because this meant something, and Steve wasn't sure what. He wasn't as close to Jim as _Toby_ , and sure wasn't family, just an ass who'd bullied his way into Jim's life.

It took an hour, and Steve missed chemistry, but he _did_ figure something out.

Not what was going on in Jim's head, because Steve had never been good at that.

But what was going on in _Steve's_ head was pretty clear.

He was worried about what Jim meant with this gesture, because he _wanted_ it to mean something.

Because Steve _definitely_ had a thing for Jim Lake.

\---

Eli yelped when, while passing the art studio, an arm reached out and yanked him inside. There was a flicker of panic in his chest until he saw his captor was Steve (and what the fuck had happened to his life that seeing _that_ was comforting?).

Steve was pacing next to the teacher’s desk; his hair was mussed and he kept stopping every few seconds to take a deep breath.

“Steve? Did you drag me in here for a reason? Or did you just need someone to witness your little breakdown?”

“How do you tell a dude you like him?”

Eli snorted. “I can’t believe you’re still so caught up in some macho image you’re worrying about telling your friend you actually like him because people might think you’re gay. Believe me, Jim isn’t going-“

“I’m _not_!”

“Oh my god, I wasn’t saying you were gay, I was-“

“No, you don’t-“ Steve gave a wordless growl and ran a hand through his hair, sending it further into disarray. He stopped moving and took a deep breath, turned to Eli. “I’m not worried about people thinking I’m gay. I mean, I am - worried, I mean, not - oh _fuck_.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Eli risked poking him. “Steve? Do you need like a nurse or something?”

Steve dropped his arm and looked up at Eli. His eyes were a little wild. “I’m gay. If I’m attracted to Lake, that means I _am_ gay.”

Eli found himself babbling, because this moment required _some_ response, but Eli was incapable of formulating a coherent one, because his mind was _blown_. In _no_ version of this year he could have imagined would Steve Palchuk be _coming out_ to him.

“I mean, not necessarily. Obviously, straight is not a word I’d use to describe this, but you could be bisexual, or, ha, pansexual, though that might be a little advanced for you to get right now-“

“I’m not here for a lecture, Pepperjack, I am here for advice about how to tell a guy I _like_ him!”

“Oh.” _Ah_. “ _Are_ we talking about Jim?”

“Who else?”

“Um, Toby. Me.”

“Why would I ask you for advice about how to ask you out?”

“I don’t know; this whole situation was set in motion by some unnecessarily convoluted plan of yours, so it would be in character, at least.”

“Well, it’s not you!” Steve paused, clearly reviewing what he’d just said. “I mean, not that you’re-“

“Yeah, I’ll try not to let this crushing disappointment ruin me for other men.” Steve’s wide-eyed expression in response made it clear he was not in a place to joke about this. “No, Steve, I’m not harboring a secret crush on you. God, we do not need that extra level of bullshit on top of this nonsense.”

And then Steve was right up in Eli’s face; Eli _did_ take a step back, because no one really got that close to him. Steve did not, thankfully, grab Eli, but his eyes had not lost that wild edge.

“Then what do I do?”

“I don’t know, Steve. I’ve never told a boy I liked him. I bet it’s not unlike telling a girl, with the added worry that if it gets out the star quarterback might beat you up.”

“I-“ Steve fell back a step, panicked expression giving way to something, well, stricken. Still wide-eyed, but a little more like Eli had hit him. “Fuck, Eli, I was an _ass_.”

“Yeah.” Eli shrugged. Eli felt a _little_ bad, seeing Steve’s state, but not enough to apologize. If Steve’s gay freak-out led to a teachable moment, he’d take it.

Though the way Steve had not, apparently, realized liking a boy made him gay until just now, this wasn’t a gay freak-out so much as a ‘I am attracted to one of my best friends, what the fuck do I do about that?’ freak-out.

“Why the hell do you even _talk_ to me?”

Which was quickly turning into a horrified realization of the depths of his previous assholishness.

“I’m talking to you because you’re reacting like _that_ ,” Eli replied. “Look, me and Jim and Toby I guess have decided to give you a chance to move past all that shit because you’re trying to be better.”

“But I don’t deserve-“

“No. You don’t.” Fuck, Steve’s eyes were watering, but Eli had to get this out. “None of us owe you anything for trying to be better, not for how much of a jerk you were. But you’ve got us - all of us - now. And you know Jim’s a better guy than you used to be. He’s not going to hit you or hate you. And unless you can’t suck it up and deal with it if he doesn’t feel the same, he’s not going to stop being your friend.”

And for being so much taller than Eli, for being like twice as wide as him, Steve looked small. Vulnerable.

“Do you maybe want a hug? No homo?”

And Steve started laughing, a choked, hysterical sound, as he stepped back and slid down to the floor against the desk. When it didn’t look like Steve would stop anytime soon, Eli crouched next to him and put a cautious hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Steve? Buddy? You okay?”

“Can’t - can’t be no homo!” Steve gasped. “Gotta be at least one homo.” His voice dissolved into hiccuping giggles, and Eli couldn’t get another word out of him for the next five minutes.

But he did calm down eventually, and when he did, he looked up at Eli (who was barely taller than Steve, crouching next to him sitting). His eyes were dry, but face was a little damp.

“Can I still get that hug?”

“Yeah-“

Steve cut off Eli by lunging, wrapping his arms tight around Eli's middle. "Thanks," Steve muttered, before adding, "Sorry."

"Pft," Eli replied. "It's all good." He reached around and patted Steve's back. "But your grip's a little tight; not all of us are buff football players."

"Sorry!" Steve yelped, pulling back. He was smiling, though, a gentle expression that was so unlike the Steve Eli had thought he'd known at the beginning of the year Eli had to wonder, briefly if someone had replaced Steve with a bad imposter sometime since Labor Day.

Except, who would _want_ old Steve? _Steve_ didn't want anything to do with him, and Steve _was_ him.

"Are you sure you don't have any...advice?"

"Come on, aren't you hanging with Dr. Lake?"

"I'm not going to ask Jim's _mom_ for advice on how to hit on him!" Steve hissed, face flaring red. "She barely thinks I'm good enough to be his _friend_!"

"I'm going to guess Toby's out?" Steve's glare didn't shift, so Eli guessed he was right. "You could ask Claire; she's not actually related to him, and not honorbound to fight you if she doesn't approve of you."

Eli wasn't certain if the sick look on Steve's face was at the suggestion Claire might fight him, or just the thought of talking to her at all.

"Okay, look, I have _one_ piece of advice. Take everything you have ever seen in a teen movie or romantic comedy about asking someone out, and forget it. No one, least of all Jim, is going to thank you for a disruptive romantic gesture."

Steve inhaled, a sharp sound, and then was grinning at Eli.

"You, my fucking nerd, are a _genius_!" Steve grabbed Eli, gave him a brief squeeze, and then scrambled to his feet.

"Steve, I said _no_ disruptive romantic gestures!" Eli called after him, but Steve was stuck in his own head, or was choosing to ignore Eli.

Eli sat there a minute before he took a deep breath and let it go. This situation was officially out of his hands. And who knew? Steve following his own instincts had gotten him this far, with three good friends who'd loathed him at the start of the year.

Ugh, he hoped Steve didn't get his stupid heart broken.

\---

Barbara got to the coffee shop a few minutes early, but Steve was already there, staring into his cup intently. He looked...anxious. Perhaps in the same vein as when he'd been failing at befriending Jim.

She decided to forgo her tea, and pulled out the chair across from him. Steve startled; his jittery movements suggested this was not his first cup of coffee.

"Good afternoon, Steve. How are you?"

"I...sort of have a weird favor to ask, Dr. Lake."

"Well, let me sit." She did, and gave Steve a smile she hoped was nonthreatening. It probably didn't do much, because he refused to look at her. "Steve?"

"I wanna do a thing, but I want it to be a surprise, and it's gonna take some time, and it'd really help if I had access to your kitchen to do it…" Steve paused, took a shuddering breath. "Um."

"Is this for Jim?"

Steve nodded his head, jerkily.

"Well, I can easily get out of your hair; more easily if you pick a time I'm at work. Any thoughts when?"

"What?" Steve flailed, nearly knocking his cup over. "You don't even want to know-"

"Oh, I'd _like_ to know," Barbara replied. "But I trust you, Steve. You're not going to wreck my house...or my kitchen, I hope, but it's a little hypocritical of me to demand _that_."

"I...oh." Steve didn't look pleased, paling a little further, even. "Um. Look, Dr. Lake, I gotta say-"

"Steve. Don't _worry_." She reached out, and decided a hand on his shoulder was appropriate. He didn't jerk away, at least. "I know I was...harsh when we first spoke, but you're a good kid. I know Jim cares about you, no matter what. So _I'm_ not worried, and you...well, you won't appreciate you telling you not to worry, but try to remember Jim's your _friend_ , and that means a lot to him. So as long as you don't do anything to hurt him, you'll be fine."

Steve huffed and gave Barbara a weak, shaky smile. "Thanks, Dr. Lake."

"Anytime, Steve. I mean it."

\---

It was a rare Saturday without a game, and Dr. Lake had work from mid-afternoon until, like, midnight. Jim was at rehearsal until five, so when Steve arrived at the Lake house just after two, three shopping bags in hand, the house was empty. He let himself in with Dr. Lake's spare key and went to drop his bags in the kitchen. There was a paper bag with 'Steve' written on it sitting next to the stove.

Steve spent fifteen minutes after opening it quietly hyperventilating in the bathroom, uncertain if the contents of the _note_ were more mortifying, or the contents of the _bag_.

...Well, not the note _itself_ , but what it implied.

'It's not my place to say what you and Jim are ready for, but whatever you do, be safe.'

Steve had no idea _how_ Dr. Lake had figured Steve out, but the fact she'd thought about this ensured _nothing_ was happening, even if Steve had _planned_ it.

So resolved, Steve shoved the bag underneath the sink and returned to the kitchen, where he carefully laid out the recipes (just directions, he reminded himself - easy if you just went from step to step) he'd brought with him.

And after that, Steve didn't really have time to worry; most of his attention was on making sure this whole stupid meal turned out okay. 

He was in fact so focused on the work, the repetitiveness of chopping, kneading, rolling things out, that he didn't notice the door opening until he heard Jim's voice raised in a shout.

"Mom! I thought we talked about - _Steve_?"

"Hey." Steve waved his free hand as he stirred one of the pots spread over the kitchen.

"Steve, what are you - how did you get in?"

"Your mom gave me a key," Steve replied.

"Yeah, but what are you…" Jim stepped up to the kitchen counter, scanning the ingredients and in-progress food. "Doing?"

"I'm cooking, Lake. See the knives, ladles, pots?"

Jim glared up at Steve. "Don't be an ass. _Why_ have you broken into my house-"

"I don't think it's 'breaking in' when the homeowner gave me a key."

"Why are you cooking dinner?"

Steve shrugged, let his head drop over the stewing milk to check its consistency (two potential custards had become scrambled eggs and were unusable) and distract from his face, which he was certain was bright red. "A dude can't sneak into his friend's house and cook dinner?"

"I don't know - this seems like the sort of thing Toby would accuse me of doing - showing up in people's houses in the middle of the night to feed them because they're not eating right."

"Well, then it's payback for all the times you keep force-feeding _me_. Sit." Steve waved at a stool near the counter, and Jim sat, a half-smile on his face. He watched, quiet, for a few minutes.

"Okay, what's going on here? Food Network? Martha Stewart?"

"My grandma's pierogi recipe. And an apple pie my mom...probably got out of Woman's Day ages ago." Another response rose to Steve's mouth, a defense for doing this, something 'girly', but he bit it back; this wasn't the time to offend Jim by implying his hobby (ha, profession someday, Steve bet) was something to be ashamed of. And in any case, if Steve was worried about girly hobbies turning him into a sissy, it was _way_ too late to worry about.

"You make them a lot?"

Steve shook his head. "First time trying. My mom never made the pierogis - but she'd make the pie for my birthday."

"Huh, and this is all for me?"

"Unless you want to invite Domzalski over, yeah." Steve almost immediately wanted to bash his head against a cabinet for the suggestion; this was supposed to be his chance to sweep Jim off his feet, not invite an audience or worse, miss his chance entirely.

"Hmm, nah. Wouldn't want to embarrass you if it's shit." Jim gave Steve a bright grin and he nearly cut the tip of his thumb off with a kitchen knife in his distraction. "So come on, talk me through this. How far along are you?"

Steve remembered worrying about talking to Jim, so the fact that he could effortlessly discuss the later steps in his grandma's pierogi, his mom's pie, while Jim made helpful suggestions, one that actually kept Steve from burning the pierogi, felt like progress.

"Um, they're supposed to sit for a few minutes," Steve said once he had them out of the pan and on a plate.

"Then I'll set the table; I don't usually do this part, but I'm pretty sure I remember where everything is."

It was confusing, how Jim bustling to grab plates, silverware, a pair of glasses, was fascinating, tied Steve's stomach in knots, made him want...well, nothing that would require needing the supplies Dr. Lake had provided them just in case, but definitely _wanting_. Or maybe he had felt this way, and mistaken it for something else (he'd been tense for a while before that, so maybe he _had_ been entranced by the sight of Jim, but terrified of what he'd risk in acknowledging it).

So Steve took a minute after Jim left the kitchen to take a deep breath, check on the pie, and center himself before braving dinner with Jim.

Steve was certain he didn't breathe from the moment he walked into the dining room until Jim cut into his first pierogi and took a bite.

"How is it? I can handle brutal, Lake, if you need to be brutal."

"No, it's _good_ ," Jim replied. "I mean, I would have experimented, but I've got enough practice I know how not to fuck up when I'm doing that."

"Like… _actually_ good?"

"Yeah." Jim nodded, spearing another pierogi. "You don't need to be Gordon Ramsay to make good food."

"Who?"

Jim burst out laughing, and it took a couple minutes to get him to calm down enough to explain Gordon Ramsay was a big fucking deal in the cooking world. So Jim's compliment was legitimate - he might not pay thirty bucks for Steve's pierogi, but he liked it.

And it put Steve a little more at ease, even though he knew he was quieter than usual, which he hoped came off as being, he didn't know, tired, rather than uninterested.

...He spent a little more time than he'd like to admit just staring, which was embarrassing, but since part of the point of this evening was letting Jim _know_ Steve liked him, getting caught out wouldn't be the end of the world unless Eli _and_ Dr. Lake were wrong and Jim just up and stabbed Steve with a pie server.

A shrill beeping sent Steve scrambling up from the table to retrieve the pie, which was a little blackened at the top, but the crumb crust was glistening and smelled like sugar, so Steve decided it counted as a win. So he grabbed the pie server and brought the whole thing back to the table; when Jim saw it, he gave Steve an encouraging grin. Steve's heart fluttered and he nearly dropped a fresh apple pie all over Dr. Lake's dining room floor.

In the end, he caught himself and was able to drop the pie onto the table with no further incident, at least until Jim held out a hand to keep him from cutting it.

"You've got to let it set a while," Jim explained. "So sit down. Relax. You've been on edge all day, I bet."

Which Steve had, but he had no idea how to explain it.

Well...aside from the obvious.

Fuck it; Steve had not figured out a fancy way to do this; the pie was out of the oven, so if he had to leave, it wouldn't be with the risk of burning down the Lakes' house.

"Look, Jim, I haven't been completely honest with you."

Jim snorted. "Oh god, don't worry about that. Eli told me the whole story at the game."

Steve's blood went cold until Jim mentioned the game - he and Eli had last attended one of Steve's games several weeks ago, before Steve figured out his attraction to Jim. But that meant…

"What...story?"

"The whole thing with my mom? Look, I get it, you were a confused ass who got blindsided by friendship-"

"Yeah, okay, I have no idea what I was trying to do there, but I guess it sort of worked out? So it's all okay?"

Jim grinned and nodded. "Were you just worrying about that? Because it's _fine_ -"

"I wanted to do something nice for you because you've been amazing," Steve blurted. " _Are_ amazing. You've been really nice to me when I don't deserve it, and...I sort of wanted a way to show you thanks. Maybe tell you how I feel. Which is...that you're cool and a good cook and shit, but also...sort of attractive - really attractive, if I'm really getting it all out there. And I asked Pepperjack for advice and he said if I wanted to ask you out I shouldn't do some big disruptive romantic gesture, but I thought maybe a small, quiet romantic gesture was...better?" He'd dropped his gaze to his plate so he didn't have to see Jim's reaction until he was done talking. But when it was quiet for a moment too long, Steve looked up to make sure Jim hadn't left while Steve was pouring his heart out.

Jim was staring at Steve, and the expression on his face was-

Steve hadn't seen Jim smile so wide since he'd known him. A small part of Steve's mind was screaming at him that this was a trick, that Jim was delighted to finally have something to hold over Steve's head, and then Jim blurted,

"Really?"

"That's a hell of a lot to say if I didn't mean it, Lake," Steve snapped. "So yeah, really. And, uh, no pressure, but if you've got any thoughts on _your_ feelings, I'd like to hear them. Because I sort of put myself out here. And I wanna know if I need to get over this or if I...might get a boyfriend out of it."

"Huh." Jim's grin didn't fade, exactly, but he wasn't beaming anymore. It was a loss, but Steve wasn't about to interrupt Jim's thoughts. "It _is_ every high school girl's dream to date the star quarterback."

"You're a _girl_?"

"What?" Jim raised an eyebrow at Steve. "No, I'm - okay, this is a lot to drop on me and I'm thinking out loud." He smirked. "Would I get your letterman jacket?"

"I - you're thinking about _clothes_?"

"Not really-" Jim looked over at Steve in a sharp movement. "But it's a question. If we...date," and Steve's chest hitched at that word, "how out's it going to be?"

Half a dozen thoughts collided in Steve's head, so the response that made it out was, "Given that your _mom_ found me out, I clearly am not cut out to keep this quiet."

"So...letterman jacket?"

Jim was grinning again, but it was more of a smirk, clear he was joking, feeling a little more comfortable about this discussion.

"Yeah. One of the perks of the position."

"Well," Jim said. "Then sure. Provisionally."

"Provisionally?"

"Come on, we've got to have at least one date, make sure we're not just terrible for each other."

"Um." And Steve had tried to avoid thinking of this whole evening as a date, and it was unfair to consider everything that had happened up until _now_ a date, but, "Maybe you'd want to join me on the couch and watch a movie? We have pie."

"Well, pie," Jim agreed. He nimbly relocated the pie, two plates, and forks, to the living room, settling them on the coffee table while Steve watched awkwardly. Jim looked up at Steve quizzically. "So...romance, action, horror…"

"Got anything about cooking?"

Jim smirked. "Suddenly feeling interested?"

Steve shrugged, not knowing how to explain he thought Jim would like it. They ended up watching an honest-to-goodness cartoon about a rat who could cook (it made Steve feel a little inadequate, being shown up by a fake rat at cooking).

But to be honest, Steve ended up losing most of the plot. They started out sitting a little apart on the couch before it occurred to Steve a few minutes in that this was a _date_ , and he shouldn't be acting like sitting too close to Jim would make people think he was gay. So he shifted a little closer, until they were side by side, and Steve decided he was entitled to act like he was on a _date_ , and stretched his left arm out, around, settling his hand on Jim's shoulder.

Jim turned and smirked at Steve. "Trying out your moves on me, Palchuk?"

"I-" Steve's face flushed and he tried to yank his hand back, only to find it held in place by Jim's hand. Jim's smirk softened, and he shifted enough to lean against Steve, instead of the couch.

"A shame. You could've kissed me if you wanted."

Steve's heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"Sorry, missed your shot. Gotta come at me with _confidence_ , dude." Jim was back to smirking, and Steve couldn't quite keep up with what the hell was going on. Jim had agreed to join Steve on a date, was leaning up against Steve's side, but said he'd missed his chance to kiss Jim? He felt like he was being teased, but…

Oh fuck, he was being _flirted at_. Jim probably expected Steve to...flirt back, but he had no experience with this sort of banter. So he sat there, frozen, tense, until Jim pushed back, shoving Steve a little.

"Dude, relax. You worried about something, tell me. Something makes you uncomfortable? Tell me to stop."

It was so weird, that in that moment, Jim sounded like his mom, and Steve snorted, laughed a little, realized that because Jim was settled on Steve's chest, he could _feel_ the vibrations.

"What's that about?"

"You sound like your mom - responsible and considerate and shit."

"Huh. That might be the nicest thing you've said to me." Jim pushed back, up, and twisted his head around to look up at Steve, grin soft again. "Sort of want to see if kissing's a good part of this."

And that, no teasing or subtlety, just a clear invitation…

Well, Steve almost panicked.

But he'd asked for this, _actually_ wanted this, so Steve leaned down and kissed Jim. It was different from his previous experiences - for one, he was certain he liked Jim, instead of girls he'd been goaded into dating because they were pretty or popular (was Steve gay? he was not certain, but there were clearly a lot of girls he _wasn't_ interested in). It was brief - a few seconds - and gentle, Steve not trying to press for what he was expected to want, just enjoying the moment.

And...well, Jim leaning up against Steve, the two of them already close, made even that chaste kiss feel intimate, warming.

Jim was smiling when Steve pulled away. "Okay?" Jim asked.

"Fuck," Steve breathed. "That...has _potential_." 

Jim laughed and dropped back around, but stayed pressed up against Steve. But he _also_ kept dragging Steve down for the occasional kiss, and submitting the few times Steve worked up the courage to twist Jim around bend down to offer one.

But, warm, comfortable, feeling optimistic about the future, Steve drifted, waking to soft voices sometime later.

"-pretty good, so _yes_ , better than yours."

"The pie can still be terrible."

"Mom, don't be mean. And be quiet; he's been asleep for a while."

"No, I think he's awake." Steve opened his eyes, blinking them against the light of the living room. Dr. Lake was crouched on the other side of the coffee table, and waved when she saw Steve. "Hi. Have a good nap?"

Steve looked back at Jim, who had his phone out, but was still nestled up to Steve. Jim grinned and waved as well.

"Um," Steve said, fumbling for an explanation, but Dr. Lake just shook her head and stood.

"You alright to get home on your own, Steve, or should I drive you?"

"He really conked out, you should drive him," Jim replied, before Steve could. "I could bring your Vespa back tomorrow." He winked, and Steve's chest fluttered. 

Truth be told, he _was_ still woozy. So he fumbled around for shoes, his recipes, pausing only when, halfway out the door, Jim grabbed his hand and pulled him up short. Jim darted up and kissed Steve's cheek, grinning when he pulled back.

"The answer's yes, now," Jim said. "No provisionally or anything."

"Wait - seriously?"

"Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow."

Steve was in a bit of a daze as he joined Dr. Lake in her car. She kept grinning at him, and Steve was wavering between explaining nothing had happened that they would have needed to be safe about and _never mentioning the bag she’d left for him until they day he died_.

"So it went well?" she asked.

"I, uh, maybe? We might have a date tomorrow."

"You _definitely_ have a date tomorrow," Dr. Lake replied as she pulled out into the street. She was quiet for a moment. "Jim's a good kid."

"Is this where you threaten me if I ever hurt him?"

"Ha!" she barked out. "No. One, I'm pretty sure that's Toby's responsibility; there was a chore wheel and everything." Steve wondered if he could safely ask if that was a joke. "Second, you're teenagers. You're going to make mistakes, hurt each other - it's part of figuring this whole thing out. I don't need to make you more anxious about that. Just…" She gave Steve a wan smile. "Try to be good to him, okay?"

"Yeah," Steve agreed. "I can do that."

"Good boy," Dr. Lake said, patting Steve's shoulder. "Now let's get you home."


End file.
